


Striking Midnight

by ZoeSong



Category: C.B. Strike (TV), Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith, Strike (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cormoran's leg, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Minor Angst, New Year's Eve, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:48:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21986914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoeSong/pseuds/ZoeSong
Summary: Summary: Strike is home with a bum leg while Robin is out having fun on New Year’s Eve.Written for the Cormoran Strike Boxing Day Ficlet Fest to the prompt, “Fireworks.”
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 17
Kudos: 39
Collections: Cormoran Strike Boxing Day Ficlet Fest





	Striking Midnight

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [StrikeBoxingDayFest](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/StrikeBoxingDayFest) collection. 



> **Prompt:**  
>  Fireworks

[](https://imgur.com/dDxGkgr)

  
  


Strike was on the sofa halfheartedly watching the New Year’s Eve programme on TV and feeling sorry for himself. He wasn’t meant to be alone tonight—he’d even had plans—but here he was.

If things had gone as intended, he’d be on Westminster Bridge, waiting for the fireworks, enjoying an evening out, and ringing in the New Year with Robin. Instead, he was laid up on the sofa with his knee bunged up from yet another day on the job gone wrong. Robin had offered to stay with him, but he’d insisted that she go ahead as planned and see the fireworks with her brother and his friend. She’d asked Vanessa along since they had a ticket going spare.

If he were being honest, Strike wouldn’t have chosen to go out on New Year’s Eve at all. He’d much rather be here—albeit with Robin by his side—than mixing with a bunch of wild Londoners and tourists, the lion share of them drunk, on a cold winter’s evening.

But when Martin had asked if he and his friend Ansel could bunk with them, and offered extra tickets and dinner out as a thank-you, Strike could see that Robin really wanted to go. And he hated to disappoint her.

So they’d planned to go. And then he’d buggered his leg searching for a lead on a case. Stupid uneven pavement! 

Now here he sat, downing Doom Bars, his leg propped up and iced, watching the festivities on TV. Whenever they panned the crowd, he’d search for Robin’s bright hair and face, only remembering afterwards that she was wearing a green stocking cap to stave off the cold. 

She’d been texting him to keep him updated on where they were and what they were doing. She’d included photos from time to time, including a selfie with the London Eye behind her, so he knew that they were on the bridge, near the Parliament side, at a nice angle to see the fireworks when it was time. He stared at the photo for a long time, losing himself in her smile, wishing for the umpteenth time that he was with her, and feeling all the while how unfit he was for her. She should have someone younger who could keep up with her.

He sighed, set the phone down, gave another glance at the TV, but they were showing some band on a stage somewhere, so he muted it and pulled out some papers from a case file. If he couldn’t be with her, at least he could get some work done.

Just as he’d settled on which paper to review, his mobile buzzed again and his heart gave a little leap. He picked up the phone, expecting to see yet another selfie of Robin and her crew, but instead saw that she was trying to call on skype. He quickly wiped his mouth and smoothed his hair back (as if that ever did any good), and accepted the call.

Robin’s bright face appeared. “Hiya!” she said giddily, her voice nearly drowned out by the music being blasted nearby, her mittened hand waving in front of the camera.

“Hi. How is it?” 

“It’s great! It took a bit to get in, what with the line for security and all, but once we were through, we got a really good spot on the bridge. See?” She turned the camera towards the river and the London Eye appeared, currently lit up purple.

“Yup. I see a lot of people.” Lots of drunk people, he supposed. He hoped that Robin’s exuberance was just excitement and not that she was already tipsy herself.

“There are, though not quite as bad as I thought it would be. At least not yet. We even got a seat on one of the railings.”

“What on the edge of the bridge? Mind you don’t fall in the river.” Cormoran was alarmed.

“Oh, Cormoran,” and she giggled merrily, “not on the actual railing of the bridge. They’ve put concrete traffic dividers along the pavement, so you can’t get right next to the railing.”

“That’s definitely for the best. Where’s everyone?”

“Just here. Vanessa, say hi to Cormoran.”

“Hi Cormoran.” Vanessa waved to him over Robin’s shoulder. 

“Hello.” He resisted the urge to wave back. At least Vanessa still seemed to have her wits about her.

“And there are Martin and Ansel. Guys! Say hi!” She swung the camera their way.

Martin and his American friend were dancing with a couple of girls in the background. They shouted a greeting without missing a beat, waving and raising their drinks to toast him. He nodded back, feeling a bit foolish since he felt sure they couldn’t even see him from where they were. He wished he just had Robin to himself.

And as if she’d heard his thoughts, suddenly it was just Robin in the screen again. “I miss you! Wish you were here!”

“Yeah.” He didn’t really miss being there, just being with Robin. “You too.”

“How’s your leg? Doing all right?”

“It’s fine, just getting plenty of rest.”

“Good. You want me to call right at midnight so you can watch live with us?”

“Nah, that’s okay, you enjoy yourselves—I’ve got it on TV. I’ll see you afterwards.”

“Okay, see you later then. Bye-ee!” She blew him a kiss and waved her mitten again.

“Bye.” 

Robin didn’t immediately ring off, her phone screen swinging around to give a momentary flash of the houses of Parliament, and Strike could hear her giggling something to Vanessa, and then the two of them began to sing along to “We Will Rock You.” Robin muttered, “Oops!” and the phone screen went dark. Strike chuckled to himself as he put his phone away.

She was having a great time. Without him. Why was his leg always messing him up right when he most needed to be healthy? Of course, he had to face it, he wasn’t any spring chicken—he was getting older and his preferred entertainment of an evening was watching football from the sofa or getting a drink at the pub. 

He thought again about how lively Robin and her companions were and groaned again at how lacking in energy and agility he was. What was he doing with her? She should have some young guy like Spanner who could keep up with all her energy. 

Reaching for his fourth Doom Bar, Strike sank further into a funk. _She’d be better off with someone else_. Pulling out the papers, he buried himself in the case to forget his sorrows.

~~

“Five! Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!”

Everyone shouted along with the DJ, and the first fireworks burst from inside the London Eye to the tune of “Auld Lang Syne.” Robin was delighted, exclaiming at each gorgeous burst and singing along. Her brother and his friend sang loudly and joyfully, rocking out in front of her, and Vanessa was humming along beside her. 

But as the explosions of color and light continued to ripple across the skyline, Robin felt a pang of longing. Cormoran should be here. Maybe she should have just stayed home with him. She felt a bit guilty being out and having fun when he was holed up with his leg in bad order. 

Vanessa nudged her, cracking a joke about the next song as it started, and Robin set aside her momentary distraction. Cormoran was a grown man—he would be fine. And after all, he had said for her to have a good time.

So she and Vanessa sang along with the songs and danced a bit as the fireworks went on, chiming in with Martin and Ansel as they chanted, “ooh” and “ahh” at the really excellent pyrotechnics.

The show ended with a stunning “grand finale” and the crowd cheered madly, Robin along with them. The DJ announced that the party would continue for another hour and encouraged everyone to stay. Martin and Ansel were game to stay a while longer, but as they had just stood (or sat on a very hard concrete divider) for nearly four hours in the cold waiting for the show, Robin and Vanessa were ready to head back. So they made their way the short distance to the nearby Westminster Station. 

But as they approached the entrance, they found that it was blocked off. There was a police officer stationed nearby, so Vanessa asked what was going on. 

“Sorry, this station is closed,” the officer said. “I think Green Park is open.”

Vanessa was perturbed. “You think? Don’t you know?” 

The cop shook her head, “Sorry.”

Vanessa pulled out her identification, and dropping her voice, asked, “Can’t you help us out?”

The officer took a glance at the ID, and commented, “Sorry, but they close down the stations closest to the Eye to prevent a dangerous crush of people down there. This way the crowd will disperse, hang out elsewhere for a little while, and end up at various more distant stations instead.”

Vanessa nodded sagely and Robin shrugged, and they all walked on. Martin and Ansel were still singing at the top of their lungs; they had much more to drink that the women did, so Robin was glad that she and Vanessa had their wits about them.

Parliament Street seemed to be cordoned off, so they went down a block and turned up Horse Guards Road to walk along St James Park. 

“It’s kind of dark along here,” Robin remarked. “I’m glad I’m not alone.” There were groups of people making their way in the same direction, some of them a lot more drunk than Martin and Ansel.

“Yeah, it’s good to be in a group at this hour.” Vanessa glanced at the guys. “Not that they are going to be of much use in a scuffle.” Ansel stumbled against Martin, and the two of them roared in laughter at something Martin said in reaction.

Robin giggled her agreement. “Well, they at least _look_ formidable.” Recalling Martin’s behavior towards Matthew on her wedding day, she remarked, “And I think Martin would come to our aid no matter how drunk he was.”

They decided to make their way to Piccadilly Circus Station, as they figured Charing Cross would be closed just as Westminster was. It was a long walk, but the mood was festive among the throngs of people milling about and working their way up the street. Robin texted Cormoran to tell him not to wait up, but he didn’t text back. He was probably already asleep, she figured.

As they made their way up Waterloo Place, sirens startled them, and turning, they saw an ambulance racing up through the narrow one-way passage past the Crimean War Memorial.

Ansel reacted, “Geez, they are going awfully fast—they’ll make some of those people need another ambulance if they aren’t careful!” 

Robin tended to agree, but the people in the street got out of the way in time and the vehicle sped out of sight. 

They continued up the street, which was festive with its holiday decorations, and met with multitudes of other New Year’s revelers, many going in and out of pubs. If she wasn’t so tired and cold, Robin thought she might actually enjoy the ambiance, but just now she couldn’t wait to get back to the flat. 

“Thank goodness Martin and Ansel are stellar hikers, or we’d have lost them by now!” Robin remarked to Vanessa. She’d walked much more than this for work, but not usually after standing for hours in the cold. 

Vanessa nodded, and Robin knew that she was probably longing for the warmth of home too. 

“Do you want to stop? We could find some coffee somewhere.”

“Nah, that’s okay. Let’s just get to the tube so we can get home. If I stay out here much longer, they are going to put me to work with this crowd.”

“Good point!”

Eventually they reached Piccadilly Circus, but to their dismay, it was closed as well. So they trekked to Leicester Square, merging with another huge wave of humanity out partying, and learned that it too was closed. 

“Guess we should have gone to Green Park. Or back to Waterloo—can’t imagine they’d have closed it too,” Vanessa commented. 

“I don’t know. Well, if Tottenham Court Road is closed, you can bunk at our place along with the guys. It will be crowded, but warm!”

“I’ll get back somehow, don’t worry.”

Suddenly, Ansel gave a shout. A pedicab stopped for him, and Ansel asked, “Can you get us to an open tube station?”

The driver laughed, and said, “Sure!”

Robin stepped in, “How much?” She expected it to be expensive.

“Twenty pounds.”

Robin was about to thank the driver and refuse politely, but Ansel piped up, “It’s a deal—I’ve got it.”

“I don’t know if we’ll all fit. I think it’s meant for two.”

“No, but there’s another one.” Ansel shouted for it to stop. “Don’t worry, I’ll pay for them both. It’s the least I can do since I dragged you out tonight and you’re letting us bunk with you.”

So Vanessa and Robin got into one cab, and the guys got into the other. Then off the cyclists went. Martin and Ansel urged their driver to race with the other, but the drivers seemed to be more sensible (and more sober) than their passengers. They made good time as they swerved around traffic and worked their way up the street, ironically, right past Denmark Street. 

As they pulled up to Tottenham Court Road Station, which happily was open for business, Martin and Ansel offered to accompany Vanessa on the tube home. 

“Like you two would do me much good! And how would you find your way back?” Vanessa nodded fondly to the guys, then turned to Robin. “You know I can handle myself just fine.”

“I know. But text me when you get in, just the same.”

“Fine. And you do likewise.”

“Will do! Night!” And Robin waved as Vanessa joined the queue for the escalator into the station.

“What, aren’t we going in?” Martin was confused. 

Robin laughed. “We’re just around the corner. Didn’t you notice as we passed by?”

“Guess not.”

Robin turned to her pedicab driver. “Any chance you could take us back to Denmark Street?”

“Sure!” 

A few minutes later and then finally they were pulling up in front of the flat. Ansel paid the drivers, adding a generous tip. The cyclists thanked them profusely, wished them a happy new year, and took off again. 

Robin had the key ready and let them all in downstairs, firmly shutting the inner door. Then she turned to them and announced, “I have first dibs on the loo in the flat—you guys can fight over the one by the office until I’m done!” Then she hurried up the stairs ahead of them to fulfill her claim—it had been a long walk.

She tiptoed into the flat, trying not to wake Cormoran. She found him slumped over on the sofa, papers on his lap and whisky glass in hand, and with the TV still blaring rock music from the New Year’s programme. She smiled at him fondly, glad to be home again with him.

She rescued the whisky glass and the papers, setting them on the end table, slipped her phone out of her pocket to text Vanessa, then hurried to use the loo before the boys came up. After that she went to wake Cormoran and help him to bed.

He woke groggily, “Robin! You back? Wha’ time is it?”

“It’s about one-thirty.”

“Tha’ late? I thought you’d be back before.”

“Yeah, they closed a lot of the tube stations, so we had to wander around looking for one that was open.”

“Really? Why’d they do that?”

“Something about keeping them from getting too crammed with people.”

“Ah.” He nodded, but Robin didn’t think he really heard her. “Where’re the guys?”

“Downstairs using the loo. They’ll be up. They might be a bit noisy—they had too much to drink.”

Cormoran didn’t answer and Robin thought he’d had plenty to drink himself. She wondered if he was okay. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

She found his crutches, helped him to his feet, then guided him toward the bedroom, and she knew he was definitely pretty drunk when he didn’t resist her help. “Do you need the loo?”

“Nah, I’m okay.”

“You don’t seem that okay.”

“Jus’ had a bit too much whisky.”

“You think? Celebrating, were you?” She’d seen at least four Doom Bar bottles along with the whisky.

“Not ‘xactly.”

“No? What then?”

“Bit sad.”

“Why?”

“’nother year older, not a bit wiser.”

“Nonsense.”

“I’m not right for you, Robin. You need someone younger, someone more fit.”

Robin was startled. Is that what he’d been thinking? She rushed to reassure him, “Don’t be silly. I have just what I need. You.”

He stopped and stared at her, as if trying to decide if what she’d said could be true.

“I mean it. Now come on, into bed with you.”

He stared at her a moment longer, then obeyed, but didn’t slide over much; just settling in the middle of the bed.

“Move over, give me a bit of room.” 

He did, and she slipped off her outer clothes and jumped into bed with him, cuddling up against him. He put his arm around her and drew her close. “I missed you.”

She was touched by his tenderness. “I missed you too. It wasn’t any fun without you.”

“Tha’s not how it sounded. You all singing an’ dancing.”

“Well, I had a bit of fun. But it would have been more fun with you. You just got morose because you were alone and your leg hurt.”

“Hmm.”

“I’m just as tired and worn out as you would have been if you’d come with us.” She snuggled into him. “And it was cold out there. You were right to stay home—it was a long time standing around in the cold before the fireworks, then took forever to get home.” 

“Can’t believe they closed the tube!”

“I know! It was ridiculous. Oh, but I got to ride in a pedicab.”

“A what?”

“You know, those bicycle taxis.”

“Ah. Expensive.”

“Yes, but we were really knackered and a bit tipsy, and besides, Ansel paid.”

“Lightweights. And you’re the younger ones.”

“Yup.”

They heard the boys come in, knocking about a bit to set up their bedrolls, chuckling as they bumped into things in the dim light. Robin’s mobile buzzed, and she quickly checked to see that Vanessa had gotten in. She texted back, “Good night! It was fun!” and put the phone back.

“Tha’ Vanessa?”

“Yeah, I told her to text when she got in.”

“Good. Lot o’ nutters out there tonight.”

“Yep, and we were some of them!”

“Uh huh.” He settled himself more comfortably on his pillow, drawing Robin close to him.

Happy to be home at last with Cormoran, she whispered, “I love you.” 

Cormoran didn’t answer, and Robin thought that he’d drifted off. But then a mumbled, “Love you too” emerged from him, and then, “’m a lucky man.”

Robin smiled and let herself drift off on a wave of contentment. It was the perfect New Year’s Eve.

**Author's Note:**

> I borrowed heavily from my own experience when my son and I visited London and went to the New Year’s Eve festivities at the London Eye. They really did close down the tube stations and it took us about two hours to get to where we were staying (quite a bit farther away than Denmark Street!). But it was a lot of fun and the fireworks were amazing! If you ever decide to go to this event, plan ahead—you have to get the tickets in September. You can learn about that [here](https://www.seetickets.com/tour/london-new-year-s-eve-fireworks). Also, check for tube closures. This year's closures are listed [here.](https://www.lbc.co.uk/news/london/new-years-eve-travel-london-what-lines-running/) I wish we had thought to check that last year! But it was an adventure!


End file.
